


Smoke and mirrors and early-morning sunrises

by Multifandom_damnation



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bad Days, Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Brotherly Affection, Domestic Mickey Milkovich, Dysfunctional Family, M/M, Married Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Medication, Mental Health Issues, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Protective Lip Gallagher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29534304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multifandom_damnation/pseuds/Multifandom_damnation
Summary: Ian wakes up way too early feeling restless and achy and bright and knows without a doubt that his day was going to be either very long or very short, depending on how long he could keep this up.But he lives in a very full house with people who love him and who knows him better than he knows himself, and Mickey has never been one to let him sulk and suffer in peace.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 10
Kudos: 132





	Smoke and mirrors and early-morning sunrises

**Author's Note:**

> Have I ever seen Shameless? No. But an anon on Tumblr asked me to write this, and I've been watching a lot of short vids and wonderful video edits. And the context of the show isn't really my thing, with the prisons and the crime and the hyper-sexuality (not that there's anything wrong with that! But I'm struggling to get started on Bridgeton because I've heard that they're's lots of sexual scenes in it. I guess I'm a bit of a prude, but I have no problem with it but watching it makes me squeamish, like second-hand embarrassment-like. Anyway, enough of me) but I'm really enjoying these characters and the relationships between the siblings. So I've agreed to write this for the anon, even though this is a very sensitive subject matter, but I hope I did enough research on the disorder and the characters/show to do this justice.

Throwing his jacket on, Lip made his way down the stairs and was harshly slapped in the face with a confusing concoction of scents. Franny was seated at the kitchen table, eating from a high stack of pancakes, slathered in syrup and butter. There was a mostly-empty plate of scrambled eggs beside her. He could hear Debbie from somewhere else in the house. And Ian was in the kitchen, humming to himself and over-seeing the progress of many cooking pans. 

"Hey," Lip greeted as he slowly reached the landing, adjusting his collar as he took in a scene. "You're up early."

"Yeah, couldn't sleep. Felt restless. I haven't been up for long though, the pipes rattling when Debbie had a shower woke me through the walls, so I thought I would be productive. I've got the day off," Ian said, not looking away from the waffle maker that was leaking batter from the seams and onto the counter. "Hey, what do you want for breakfast? I've got one of everything."

" _You're_ cooking breakfast?" Lip asked dubiously. He walked around the counter to peer at Ian's many tasks- dishes were piled up in the sink, the water high and soapy. The pot of coffee was freshly brewed. There was a pan with crusty eggs around the rim, and a pan smeared with pancake batter. There was toast burning in the toaster. "That's sure to be a disaster."

Turning to the growing dishes in the sink, Ian laughed. "I've gotten pretty good lately, asshole. Now, what do you want?"

"What are you making?" Lip sat on the barstool and leant against one of the cleanest parts of the counter. 

"A bit of everything, really," Ian jerked his chin around at the meals as he spoke. "Liam wanted scrambled eggs, Franny wanted pancakes. Mickey just had toast and a beer. Carl wants waffles."

"Wow. You're a whole smorgasbord up in here," Lip said. Ian smiled that big, rare smile he sometimes did, and Lip felt something in his gut go cold. "What are you having?"

"Toast," Ian said. "I'm not too hungry."

"Right," Lip replied. After a moment, Ian returned his attention to the dishes and systematically plunged his hands in the hot water to wipe away the grime. Lip tried to catch Debbie's eye as she was getting ready to leave, packing lunches and toys and books. She gave him a pointed look before she continued on, cooing to Franny and wiping syrup from her chin. Lip turned back to Ian. "You take your meds?"

Humming, Ian turned off the tap and shook his hands off. "Yes," he reached for a towel. "After my shower. Now, what do you want to eat before you shoot off?"

Pushing away from the bench, Lip shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

Ian shrugged. "Suit yourself. Carl!" He shouted up the stairs. "Do you want chocolate sauce or maple syrup with your waffles?"

"Chocolate sauce!" Came Carl's distant reply from the bathroom.

Nodding to himself, Ian opened the waffle maker and tipped a second waffle out onto a plate. It was golden brown and almost perfectly cooked, and Ian went digging through the fridge for the chocolate sauce. Lip left him to it and went to stand by Debbie, who had stood Franny up and was gently brushing her hair while Franny licked at her fingers. Cringing at the thought of what could possibly be on those fingers of hers, he pulled a napkin from the table and knelt down in front of her. "Hey, hold on, let me just wipe your face. You're all sticky," Franny stuck her tongue out but relented. Over her head, Lip met Debbie's eyes. "Is Ian OK?"

She glanced at him from where she was brushing Franny's hair. Ian was just handing the plate of waffles to Carl as he bounded down the stairs, dressed in his uniform, and sat at the table. "I don't know. Fine, I guess. A little... odd. Wild, maybe, but I don't think it's too bad, at least not yet. He was up way before any of us, cleaning the kitchen or some shit. He wouldn't _lie_ about taking his meds, so I just think it's one of those days."

Humming, Lip gave special care to Franny's chin. "I think I've felt it coming for a while, but I still kind of thought that the meds would just stop it altogether. I guess not. I've got to get to work soon. Can you keep an eye on him?"

"Franny and I are going to meet Sandy at the park," Debbie shook her head. "Liam's at school, Carl's at work. I think it's just him today."

That provided Lip with no sense of ease. He wracked his brain for anyone who could possibly keep an eye on him. "Vi and Kev...?"

"Working early at the Alibi," Debbie said regretfully. "And I wouldn't trust Frank within an inch of my life. Maybe Mickey? I think he's outside?"

Lip wanted to smack himself in the face for not considering Mickey- it was sometimes easy to forget that they all lived together like one big happy family, even Mickey. "I'll let him know. I think that even if he did have something on, he'd put it off for this," He gripped Franny's shoulder's with a smile. "You be a good girl today, alright?"

"OK," She smiled at him, all teeth and gums.

Standing, Lip nodded to Debbie and glanced back to the kitchen. Carl's back to him at the diner table, mindlessly eating his waffles and checking his schedule. Ian was wiping down the counter with one hand, the other holding a burnt piece of toast to his mouth. "I'm off," he announced. "Don't work too hard, Ian,"

"Harder than you, anyway," Ian teased and saluted as Lip grabbed his wallet and keys opened the front door. The last thing he heard was Carl absently asking Ian around a mouth full of waffle if he had taken his morning meds. 

Mikey was sitting on the steps at the tail-end of a very uninteresting phone call, and he hung up as Lip shut the door behind him. He glanced up and squinted through the sunlight as Lip descended the stairs. "Morning," he took a drag from his cigarette. "You look like shit."

"Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment," Lip paused on the path, rocking back and forth on his heels. He could hear Ian's laughter from the open kitchen window. Mickey squinted up at him, head tilted to the side, waiting. "Can I ask you for a pretty big favour today?"

"Depends," Mickey put out his smoke on the footpath. "How much are you paying me?"

"No, not that kind of favour," Lip shook his head. "It's about Ian," That peaked Mickey's interest, and his brow furrowed and his lips pressed together. "He's in a good mood, been up for a while, made everyone a different kind of breakfast. Says he took his meds, but uh, not sure how well they're working today. Just keep an eye on him today, alright? We're all going to be out, so it'll be on you."

Not that Lip had any concerns with Mickey looking after Ian. He might not have always agreed with their relationship, but he never doubted that Mickey always took care of Ian when he needed it. Mickey stood up, worrying at his lip. "So you're saying it's a bad day?" he said slowly. He knew exactly what Lip was saying, but he just needed it confirmed.

"Yeah," Lip said. He made a gesture with his hand, like a rollercoaster slowly coasting to the top of a hill where it paused before he brought it down in a speedy slope towards the ground. Mickey watched him carefully, eyes tracking his every move. "Just watch him for me, OK?"

"I've got nothing on today," Mickey tried to seem uninterested, but failed miserably, shooting worried glances back at the kitchen, where Ian was having a discussion with Carl about the best consistency of a toasted marshmallow. Neither of them was sure why they were talking in code. Everyone else was too busy inside to hear them. "You know, I had a feeling that... well. It doesn't matter. I've got him. All of you just need to fuck off for a bit and leave us be."

"Thanks, Mick," Lip sighed, relieved, as he continued down the path and climbed into Tami's car. "Keep me updated?"

"Sure," Mick already sounded annoyed. "Now fuck off."

Mickey had already decided not to go inside until everyone else had gone. An hour or so later, Debbie and Franny exited in a rush of pink skirts and jittering keys and high-pitched giggles, and Debbie nodded to him as she passed. Carl ran out not long later, greeting Mickey kindly before he jogged down the street towards the station. 

Confident now that the house was empty, Mickey rose from the step and made his way inside. The chairs at the kitchen table were still pushed away, and there was a pile of dripping dishes stacked in the drying rack. Ian was standing in the middle, leaning against the counter with one hand and looking at an orange bottle of pills with the other, a sad, angry, thoughtful expression on his face. His forehead was still streaked with pancake batter and chocolate sauce. He didn't glance up when Mickey entered, but Mickey didn't mind. 

"Hey," he said gently, sliding into the seat across from him. "Have you taken your meds?"

"Yeah," Ian said, but he didn't sound too convincing. He shook the bottle in his hand, the pills rattling around in the plastic.

Crossing his arms over the counter, Mickey ducked his head to try and catch Ian's gaze. "Are you alright, Mopey Dick?"

Ian shrugged, but Mickey didn't miss that hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I lied to Lip today," he admitted, and he seemed genuinely upset by it. "I told him that I'd only woken up when I heard Debbie in the shower, but that was a lie. I've been up since 5:30, and I went for a run, and I came back and rearranged all the things in the fridge just to do something with my hands, and then I made everyone breakfast," he put the pills back down on the table. "I think my meds are unbalanced again."

"Alright," Mickey said gently. "Well, that's good, right? That you picked it up on your own. And I think that Lip will forgive you."

"I've got to go to the shrink tomorrow," Ian said absently. "Talk about a new dose."

"Great," Mickey said. "So what are you going to do about it now?"

Heaving a great, exhausted sigh, so deep that Mickey could feel it in his very soul, Ian took the little white lid off of the orange bottle. "Up my downers and sleep it off," he shook a couple of into his hand, and Mickey watched him with the sense of pride and love that he always felt for Ian Gallagher, like a flower blooming in his chest. "I'm going to be pretty useless for a while. At least I got to contribute a little bit to the household today."

"Don't sweat it," Mickey shook his head. "You probably made their morning just by cooking and doing all the dishes so they didn't have to," he nodded to the tiny white pills in Ian's open palm. "Now take your pills and get your ass to bed."

Unsurprisingly, Ian had the nerve to smirk at him as he threw them back and washed them down with a mouthful of stale alcohol from the bottle Carl had left out the night before. He made a face at the taste before turning to Mickey with that goofy expression that he loved so much. "See you up there?" he asked, hopeful.

"Some of us have things to do. We don't all just get to lie around and take naps all day," Mickey joked. Ian rolled his eyes, but he was already pushing away from the counter and heading towards the stairs. "I'll be up in a minute. Don't wait up."

Once Ian's heavy footsteps had receded up the stairs, Mickey pulled his phone from his pocket and sent Lip a quick message. _'He's fine. Meds are playing up, but he's going to the clinic tomorrow. Taking his downers and going to sleep it off.'_

Lip's response came very soon after. _'Thanks, Mick. Owe you one.'_

He didn't think that it was fair to remind Lip that he actually owed Mickey much more than one. Wasting no time, he spun on his heels and bounded up the stairs after Ian.

Unsurprisingly, Ian was already lying on their bed, nestled in a cocoon of blankets pulled up to his chin. The room was dark, but radiant beams of early-morning sunlight streamed in through the cracks in the blinds, dancing across Ian's hair like shiny, gossamer threads. His eyes were open, tracking Mickey as he tentatively entered the room, aware but tired, and very weary.

"Hey there, sunshine," Mickey smiled at him from the threshold. Ian didn't quite smile, but his eyes softened in that way Mick loved. He crossed the room, stepping over clutter and bottles and shoes to Ian's side. Ian didn't speak, but he moved his legs out of the way- a silent invitation for Mickey to join him. Mickey couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face as he climbed onto the bed beside him, nestled in the space between Ian's thighs and the back wall, his legs resting over Ian's. "This will be over soon," he said absently, though he knows that forty years has never been classified as 'soon', but he thought that Ian would understand what he meant. Just in case, he added, "Tomorrow, we'll go to the clinic. We'll talk to a shink, and we'll get you some better fucking meds, alright?"

Ian hummed. It was soft and distant, but it was there. The sound was music to Mickey's ears, sweet like honey, smooth like silk. He remembered the first time he had found Ian like this, wrapped in a blanket and laying in the dark. He had made no sound back then, other than to weakly ask to be alone or shout at anyone who dared to try and lift his spirits. The silence had been better than the whispers and the shouting.

He glanced at Ian's face- his eyes were dropping, and he was struggling to keep them open. Mickey took the opportunity to watch him, to study the lines of his face, to memorise every freckle. As if he would ever forget. "I love you, you know," Mickey knew he didn't have to say it, but he thought that it would help Ian to hold onto something when he was at his absolute worst. "And when this fucking shit passes, I'm still going to be right here. It'll take a lot more than a bad mood to get rid of me."

To Mickey's absolute delight, Ian actually managed a faint chuckle. It sounded like it pained him a little bit, but it was genuine, and Mickey could feel the way it shook through his body from where he was pressed against him. "Mmm, love you," he murmured, and it was the most Mickey has ever gotten out of him this early into a bad day.

Beneath him, Ian shifted, just a little bit, to bring his arm out from the bundle he had wrapped himself in and to rest his hand, palm up, on his thigh. Mickey reached out and took it, running his index finger over Ian's wedding ring, squeezing his hand gently between his own. "I'm not going anywhere, motherfucker," he assured again. "Even though you probably want me to. I'm just going to sit here and prattle on about a bunch of bullshit, and you just fall asleep and make sure you wake up a little more stable."

"Thanks," Ian managed, on the knifes edge of sleeping and awake. Mickey squeezed his hand again, just as a thank you for putting so much unnecessary effort in.

"Don't worry," Mickey scoffed lovingly, both because he didn't want Ian to worry at all, but also because he didn't think it was such a big deal. In sickness and health and all that jazz. "If you wake up and I'm not here, it's because your idiot of a brother has pulled me away to ask how you are. You know which one. The most annoying one with the somehow even more annoying baby."

Ian didn't answer, but Mickey didn't mind. His hand had grown slack in his own, and his breathing had slowed as he snored ever so gently. Mickey was more than happy to just sit there, Ian's hand in his, his almost too-hot warmth pressed up against him, his soft breathing like a melody to the rare silence of the Gallagher house. 

Three hours after Ian had fallen into his deep slumber, Mickey carefully extracted himself from the bed and slipped his hand from Ian's loose grasp, placing a parting kiss on Ian's forehead before descending the stairs. He was thirsty and remembered that he hadn't had anything since breakfast, and even then, he'd only had a piece of burnt toast and a beer. He contemplated fixing Ian his meds so he didn't have to, but figured that they were already fucked up anyway and that his sleep was more important at the moment. 

That's where Lip found him when unlocked the front door during his lunch break, his back against the counter, scrolling on his phone as it connected to the ratty old cable with frayed wires pocking out, sipping at something that Lip assumed might be water. Mickey barely glanced up at him. "How is he?"

"Fine," Mickey put his phone down. "His meds are fucked up again, so he's taken his downers and is going to sleep it off until we can go an see a shink tomorrow."

"Good," Lip looked frazzled as if he had been thinking about it all day and had rushed here as soon as he could to see for himself. "Good. That's great. And he made that decision on his own?"

Mickey shrugged. "He was putting up a front for you all. Didn't want you to worry about him, but yeah. He told me what he was going to do and just did it," Lip's eyes brighten, almost like pride. "He feels bad about not telling you, though."

Lip didn't seem bothered. "I don't give a fuck. He told you, and that's enough," he nodded his head to the stairs. "So, he's asleep?"

"Yeah. Has been for a while. Like a little baby lamb," Mick teased. Lip snorted, rolled his eyes. "Speaking of the baby lamb, you had better get back to work, and I had better get up there in case he wakes up. Don't worry, I got him."

"I know you do," Lip said easily, and Mickey didn't know why that simple phrase made his heart seize and his feet stop their steady asscent up the stairs. "Thanks again."

"Yeah, sure," Mickey cleared his throat. "Lock the door on your way out, would you?"

Wordlessly but smiling, Lip shut and locked the door behind him, and Mickey continued his way back up the stairs to sit by Ian's side, hand in hand, for however long it took for him to feel well enough to get on with his day. And Mickey was going to stay by his side every moment of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, that 'Mopey Dick' nickname was a play on words for 'Mobey Dick' but I don't know if it landed haha.


End file.
